Watermelon Summer by Anna Hess

too lax
and let the wrong people in," Kat continued.  "We need to do a better job culling
the duds."  She peered into my face as if to see whether I
understood.  "This is a huge opportunity—Greensun is worth a
lot more than $30,000—and we need to be careful not to blow it."
     
    I'm not sure how I would have replied—maybe I
would have actually said what I was thinking for a change and asked Kat
who put her in charge of the Save Greensun campaign? 
Luckily, though, Jacob was done plowing, and he joined us just as my
mouth opened to let loose words I'd probably regret later.  "I
brought a watermelon and put it in the creek when I got here," he interjected.  "Does anyone want a slice?"
     
     

     
    One of Mom's favorite Stout-Kat tales involved a
watermelon-seed-spitting contest that Kat had won against a man four
times her size and age.  Another pertained to a watermelon- eating contest that Kat had again passed with flying colors.  So the
answer was—yes, Kat loved watermelon.  And, just like that, her
anger at Jacob dissipated into a sea of watermelon juice.
     
    "We need a game plan," Kat declared, once all three of us were
covered in sticky juice.  "Thia, you can keep notes."
     
    I'd been musing over how quickly Kat's moods came and
went, but mine seemed to be just as simple to affect.  Mom had
named me after a flowering bush, and even though "Forsythia" was a bit
of an odd moniker, I'd somehow never come up with a nickname that
stuck.  "Thia," though, felt just right, and the glow of a new nickname meant I didn't mind at all
being sent into the house after pen and paper.
     
    When I came back out, Jacob and Kat had already
filled our next week with projects.  We'd go to the courthouse to
figure out who all of the neighboring land belonged to, we'd plan a
gardening event and put a notice in the local paper in hopes of finding
at least one more community member, and we'd all buckle down to think
about business solutions.
     
    Kat was doing most of the talking, I was scribbling
furiously to keep up, and Jacob was generally just nodding along. 
However, it soon became evident that Jacob was biding his time until
Kat's momentum slowed enough that he could interject some
outside-the-box thinking.  "You're talking about a CSA or teaching
gardening classes, but that's not all that's farm-related," he said
quietly when Kat paused.  "Have you ever considered harnessing the
power of the internet?"
     
    And that's how we ended up huddled around one public
computer at the local library, figuring out blogs and social-networking
sites.  I was emailing back and forth with my stepfather, whose
experience was enough to at least set us off in the right
direction.  Kat was doing what she did best—coming up with
lofty flights of fancy that might or might not crash and burn.  And
Jacob was plugging along making something actually happen based on my
technical tips and Kat's dreamy advice.
     
    By the time Kat and I peeled off to return to the
farm and Jacob turned homeward, I felt like we'd made an astonishing
amount of progress.  Plus, it just felt good to be working together
with Jacob and Kat on something bigger than ourselves.  My eyes
were following Jacob's minivan as it turned out of the Greensun driveway when
Kat's words took me by surprise.
     
    "Be careful," she said, her voice firmer than it had
sounded all afternoon.  "I'm still not so sure about that kid."
     
    Despite myself, my mood deflated just a
little, but I still watched Jacob until he rolled out of sight.
     
     
     

    For the next couple of weeks, Jacob came over just
about every day, and I suddenly had two sets of wheels at my
disposal.  That made it much easier to find spots with cell-phone
reception so I could talk to my family, although I soon wondered why I'd craved that access so much.
     
    "It sounds like you're